


Reunited

by hanyou_elf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyou_elf/pseuds/hanyou_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it feels so good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunited

The car is as beautiful as ever. Sleek lines, perfect leather seats that still smell of faded blood stains, of repairs and gunpowder. The acrid burn of salt. The lingering stench of old sweat, of musk and sex, stale in the air of a beautiful memory shut up for too long.

It's been a long time. Over a year. We haven't seen each other in a year, but he's still as beautiful as ever. His eyes aren't pointed and narrowed and suspicious like they used to be. He's softened. Become this protective father-figure who worries about little things. And it's aged him a bit, but he's still so damned beautiful.

And here, a hundred miles from any and everyone who knows us, he pulls off of the road, behind a clearing in the trees, and steps out.

My heart flutters, because maybe, _finally,_ he'll give me what I want. What I _crave._

Pacing the car, the once rough hands dredge through his hair, his emerald eyes close as he breathes heavily, a sigh. He looks defeated, and nothing's happened yet. But at the same time, his defeat is tinged with relief, and I don't know how that's possible. Perhaps things with Lisa just weren't that great.

All I can hope for is that I've saved him.

Opening the door, I'm hit with a wave of air so fresh and crisp and clean, it brings a heavy dose of nostalgia.

The last time we had sex together, before I said yes and took the plunge into Hell, it had been frantic. We both cried, even though I knew Dean won't admit to it.

It had hurt, it was so good, but it had hurt. Dean had wanted to remember, needed to feel it. He'd needed the pain, and I wouldn't deny him a thing. In all honesty, I needed the hurt too.

It's been a long year. I've missed Dean, my brother, my friend, and my lover. Being with Samuel is like being with Dad all over again. It's nice to have the familiarity of it, but Dean's relaxed attitude, his cockiness and confidence had always made the job easier.

"Dean?"

"Just, I need a minute, Sammy. This is all faster than I wanted it."

"You don't wanna be with me?" It's a low blow, but the twinge of hurt is all too real in my gut. After all this time, after the tension, it's his rejection in the air?

"That's... Sammy," he says kind of desperately. Wrecked and used. That's how he sounds. That's how he looks.

I stride around the car, wrap my arms around him. Hold him close, tightly. He has to know I'm here for him. He has to feel me.

"Sammy," he whispers, broken, barely a sigh against my throat. His head presses into my neck, breathing deeply.

"Dean," I answer. "I need this. I need us again. It's..." I trail off, unsure how to explain the lack of life I feel. There's no color. The world is a boring place. I eat, sleep, and hunt. I follow Samuel's orders, and when all else fails, when it becomes so monotonous that I want to take my .45 and blow my brains out, I jack off in the shower, fantasizing about Dean.

About the way he looked, on his knees, mouth stretched tight around my cock.

About the way he looked towering over me, thrusting forceful and cocky, assertive and sure.

About Dean kneeling in the middle of a random bed, a hand fisted around his dick, his fingers deep in his own body, and on those beautifully sinful lips: my name.

"You were dead to me. This," he gestures between us, his hand roughly elegant as he points at me an then himself before letting it fall uselessly at his side. "I gave this up! You were _dead!_ "

"'M not," I whisper.

It's the only warning he gets before I bow my head and claim his lips. Kissing him has always been the closest thing to heaven that I've ever known. It's always been the deepest truth, and the most precious of homes. Dean. Dean is all that I've known. All that I've ever wanted. It's always been about Dean.

His whine is enough. Hands wrap around broad shoulders, trace down slender shoulder blades. Revisiting paths of pleasure once as well known as my own. My tongue slides against his lips, tracing his bottom lip, those beautiful cock-sucking lips, and I want to should with joy when his mouth opens to me.

It takes seconds for me to walk him back toward the Impala. I have to press him against it. It's a kink, as soon as I saw him driving it, I was hard. He was always quicker, more pointed in what he wanted, in the pursuit of pleasure in the backseat of the car. It was good, and it was a rough kind of angry that I craved like water.

"Dean," I breath into the kiss, tracing his name with my tongue. Letting him feel how much I need it. He slides a calloused hand down my stomach, warm and comforting. It's so familiar, it hurts. He cups my dick through my pants, and I buck forward, white heat pounding through my veins.

"Come on, Sammy," he murmurs, voice low and breath hot against my neck. "Come the fuck on."

He doesn't make another noise as I grind into his hand. I wrap my hands around his narrow waist, and lift him. Forcing him onto the trunk of the car. With a grunt, he adjusts his grip, slides his hand into my pants, and wraps his long fingers around my straining flesh, -toomuchtoogood- and I reclaim his lips. His legs spread to give me room, and all thought abandons me as I fuck into his hand.

Panting into the kiss, I ride the waves of pleasure, begging for more, begging to fill him, to have him again. I want to bury myself so far in his body, he won't know where he ends and I begin.

It doesn't take long. In the year that I've been back, I haven't been with anyone else. Dean was the last person to touch me, he would be the first to do so again.

My body tenses, my hands tighten on his hips, I break the kiss so I can bow my head to his shoulder, lay there, basking in the pleasure. His lips are a burning press to my temple, his breath a brand as he whispers into my ear, "Cum in your pants for me, Sammy. Just like ya used to do!"

And that's all it takes. I let go, panting and gasping and looking for all the world like a drowning fish as I ride the afterglow."

I pant his name, and it's too good. So very, very good. I want to capture this magical feeling, sell it, use it, but I can't. And I don't know when we'll do this again, so I need to relish every precious second.

"You good there, princess?" Dean asks after what must have been a small eternity. "'Cause I don't know about you, but I could really go for a shower right now." His voice is tense, his body is nowhere near the boneless mass I was familiar with once upon a time. Maybe he's changed, it happens. Whatever the issue, I can't focus on it, too caught up in pleasure to worry about his need to be a martyr for this family.

I grunt as he pulls his hand from my pants, wiping trails of gunk along my hip and stomach. I'll bitch about it later, for now, this moment, when my veins are buzzing with life and my body is loose in a way it hasn't been in a long time, I've got no complaints.

"Come on," I answer. "I saw a sign a little while ago that said there was a town ahead, about fifteen miles. Might find a motel there."

He grunts and pushes me away so he can slide off of the back of the car. I can't help but notice that his pants aren't stained and he's not even remotely hard.

I want to call him on it, call him on his refusal to give me even this. The anger is just as swift and white hot as the rush of lust had been. I shiver and throw myself into the front seat impatiently. We'll have to sort this out. Preferably with my dick in his ass, but something will change.


End file.
